Seven Conversations from Wayne Manor (Plus One on Themyscira)
by Lorendiac
Summary: Batman is sick. He absolutely, positively, unmistakeably wants "no visitors." Fortunately, nobody else really cares what he wants, so Diana shows up to lend a hand, and starts getting a better feel for how things are done at Wayne Manor.
1. 1st Conversation: Batman and Mr Terrific

**Author's Note:** This is set in the DCAU, sometime after the final season of _Justice League Unlimited,_ and thus happens after most of my previous Justice League fanfics. (Note from April 4th: I've just updated my profile by adding a list of all **16** of those fanfics, arranged according to the "internal chronology.")

Seven conversations in a row will either happen entirely within Wayne Manor (counting the Batcave as part of the Manor), or else will be long-distance chats with someone in the Manor speaking to someone far away. Then there will be an _extra_ scene on Themyscira to wrap a few things up. (Initially, I was going to have the Themysciran bit be a _separate_ short story starring Wonder Woman and her mother, but I reconsidered.)

* * *

**Seven Conversations from Wayne Manor (Plus One on Themyscira)**

**First Conversation: Batman and Mr. Terrific**

Twenty-two members of the League currently participating in thirteen missions; five supervillains (and a few dozen henchmen) subdued and handed over to local authorities within the past hour; some interstellar news had just arrived suggesting the Thanagarians were finally getting the upper hand over the Gordanians in their ongoing war . . . it was all shaping up to be just another normal shift on monitor duty in the Watch Tower, and then a screen showed a Bat-logo to indicate that the premiere superhero of Gotham City was calling in.

The watch officer (Michael Holt, aka Mr. Terrific) hit a button and answered with a jaunty monosyllable: "Go!"

A grim voice said, "Tell the other founders I won't be at the meeting tonight. In fact, take me off the On-Call roster for a while." Pause. "I'm sick."

Mr. Terrific's left hand reflexively reached for the "General Signal" button, the one that would activate every League communicator at once, before he caught himself. This sounded _bad._

From most members of the League, "I'm sick" might mean "I have stomach flu" or "I'm coping with a nasty sunburn" or perhaps "I'm feeling nauseated after getting spun around in circles a few hundred times by a supervillain's tornado." From some of them, it might even mean "I just don't feel like showing up as planned, so I'm inventing an excuse." (Yes, some of Michael Holt's fellow Leaguers were distinctly immature . . . and that _didn't necessarily_ refer to the ones who were still teenagers!)

But coming from _Batman_, "I'm sick" as an explanation for missing a commitment had to mean something more along the lines of "I already have one foot in the grave and the other foot is resting on a very greasy banana peel."

"How bad is it?" Terrific asked, deciding a few seconds of inquiry wouldn't make that much difference before he hit the panic button.

"Non-contagious, non-fatal," Batman said promptly, then added a less-than-reassuring qualifier: "I think."

_Not_ a germ or a virus, then? How many other types of "sick" were there? Mr. Terrific's agile mind was equal to the challenge; without missing a beat, he asked: "Did someone hit you with a toxin?"

"Karl Hellfern, aka 'Doctor Death.' He was planning to spray my city with a genetically engineered super-allergen which would cause nasty and potentially lethal reactions in just about everyone. Then he would demand _millions_ for the secret antidote."

"And you intervened successfully?"

"Yes, except that he had rigged up a canister of the toxin to a tripwire and it exploded when I opened a closet. I left Hellfern in restraints, grabbed a bottle of antidote, and called it in to the GCPD. Recommended they have the U.S. Army Medical Corps send in a team of chemical/biological-warfare experts to go over the lab with a fine-toothed comb and then destroy it."

"So you don't require any League intervention at the site?"

"No. We can leave it to the specialists."

"So how is the antidote working for you?"

"I wouldn't know . . . I haven't taken it yet."

Mister Terrific took a moment to bite back the scathing remarks he wanted to make, and finally settled for a simple: "Why not?" (He hoped he didn't sound as disapproving as he felt.)

"Wanted to talk to you first." Batman paused, and Mister Terrific began to sense the man's breathing was getting labored. "I have a friend standing by to . . . give me the injection. Between the early symptoms from the . . . allergen . . . and the probable side effects of the active ingredients of the antidote . . . I don't expect to be conscious often enough to matter for . . . at least three days. Probably not fit for duty for . . . a week, estimated."

"We do have state-of-the-art facilities up here in the infirmary."

"I know. When we first built the Watchtower, I . . . made sure it had duplicates of all the medical equipment . . . I keep here in the Batcave."

That was something Michael Holt _hadn't_ known. He said carefully, "So you maintain a miniature state-of-the-art hospital . . . in your own basement . . . just for a rainy day? F. Scott Fitzgerald was right - the rich _are_ different."

"Says the man with four hundred and . . . twenty-nine . . . patents to his name."

"Four hundred and thirty-one. Two more got approved this morning. But I don't think you keep a fulltime medical staff down there along with the equipment. We have _doctors and nurses_ who would take proper care of you."

Labored or not, Batman's voice could still be acerbic. "I don't need an organ transplant, Terrific . . . I need a few days of peace and quiet. _That's_ easier to guarantee . . . down here."

Mr. Terrific thought about the times the Tower had been attacked by the League's enemies, and decided not to argue the point—although Batman probably had his own teammates in mind as more likely to create troublesome noises which reverberated throughout the space station. "All right, let's get back to essentials. You won't be beaming up here tonight, nor any time in the next few days. Is there anything you want us to do differently in your absence? Assign a few members to patrol Gotham, for instance?"

"I think Robin, Nightwing, and Batgirl can handle it . . . for a few days. They have before. They know how to contact you . . . if needed."

Then Terrific would have sworn he heard a masculine voice with a British accent in the background saying, "No more delays, sir!" right before the connection went dead. Presumably that had been the "friend" standing by to inject the antidote into Batman's arm.

In the normal course of events, Mr. Terrific would not have mentioned this development to anyone for the next few hours. Since Batman did not require urgent assistance with anything, there was no need to disturb the other six founders' regular activities with the latest news from Gotham. Tonight's meeting would have been soon enough to bring them up to speed as a courtesy.

But some time ago, Princess Diana of Themyscira had made it very clear to Mr. Terrific that she wanted to be apprised soonest of any unpleasant developments relating to the Dark Knight's _physical_ health. (Mr. Terrific conjectured that she'd only inserted the word "physical" into that directive because she realized it was unfair to expect other superheroes to know the difference right away if Batman's _psychological_ condition got any weirder than usual!)

Accordingly, Mr. Terrific selected menu options which would transmit an audio file of the recent conversation straight to the "voice mail" option of Diana's communicator. It wasn't worth interrupting her concentration when she might be in the middle of a fight or something, but he wanted it on record that he had wasted no time in bringing the matter to her attention!

The Dark Knight had given the distinct impression that he simply wanted the rest of the League to leave him alone until he was fit for duty again, but Mr. Terrific suspected the man would just have to learn to endure the terrible _misfortune_ of having at least one concerned friend drop in to see how the invalid was doing . . .

* * *

**Author's Note:** And we're off and running! If there's one thing Batman hates, it's feeling vulnerable. I was originally going to have it be a very nasty _contagious_ _disease_ (an experimental bioweapon from Dr. Death or some other villain), with Batman announcing that he was putting himself in a self-imposed airtight quarantine in the Batcave and only people in Haz-Mat suits would be allowed near him for the next week . . . but I finally decided against it.

P.S. You may not recognize the name of Karl Hellfern, M.D., aka "Doctor Death." He never appeared in the DCAU cartoons, but he is regarded as the _first_ supervillain to ever fight Batman in the Golden Age comics. (They first met in _Detective Comics #29_, just two months after Bruce Wayne's own debut!) I assume the existence of an analog in the DCAU (or in the version of it which I've been developing in my own fanfics, anyway).


	2. 2nd Conversation: Diana and Tim Drake

**Author's Note: **Near as I can recall, there were never any occasions in any DCAU cartoon in which we saw Diana and Tim Drake participating in the same conversation. I know Diana has visited Wayne Manor at least once before—back when the League needed a secret rendezvous point during "Starcrossed." But I don't remember seeing Tim hanging around the Manor at the time!

So I am working on the theory that, prior to this chapter, these two characters have _never_ spoken to each other! But of course Tim will recognize Wonder Woman's face right away from news coverage (since she never wears a mask), and I also _assume_ that somewhere along the line Batman has told Diana that the current Robin's real name is "Tim Drake."

* * *

**Second Conversation: Diana and Tim Drake**

Twenty-three hours after Batman had announced he was on the sick list until further notice, a raven-haired young woman in a burgundy jumpsuit came jogging up the road to the cast-iron bars that formed the front gate of Wayne Manor. In mid-afternoon the gate was closed but not locked, so she opened it by hand and then let it click shut behind her.

The driveway wound back and forth, near the edge of a cliff, all the way up to the main house. Diana wasn't worried about that—and wouldn't have been even if she couldn't fly—but she imagined it must get on the nerves of any visitors who weren't accustomed to mountain sports.

She hadn't tried to teleport directly from the Tower to Wayne Manor for two simple reasons: First, it would be rude, and second, Batman had once told the other founding members that his home now had state-of-the-art shielding hidden within the roof and the walls to prevent any such intrusion! So Diana had elected to be beamed down into a grove of trees a few kilometers away, and then to travel the last bit on foot.

In deference to Batman's concerns about "secret identities," she had placed her boots, tiara, and lasso in a backpack, and concealed the remainder of her usual costume beneath this brand new jumpsuit. She'd also tied back her hair in a ponytail. Anyone seeing a woman jogging along the road would've had no reason to think anything extraordinary was occurring . . . such as "Wonder Woman" paying a social call on a teammate!

Double doors facing the front porch. Old-fashioned iron knockers mounted on each door, but there was also a button at waist just right of the doorframe, so Diana pushed that instead of pounding on the door.

No one answered the doorbell right away.

After two minutes, her patience was slipping. Diana gently tested the knob of the right-hand door and found it was locked, then tested the left-hand door and found it wasn't. She took that as an invitation for friends to stroll right in, so she did, arriving in an entry hall that had considerably more floor space than most people's entire residences.

Still no sign of anyone . . . she untied her sneakers, slid her feet out of them, shrugged off her backpack, then yanked a zipper down the front of her suit so she could peel it off.

That was when a voice from somewhere above said, "Hey! What are you doing in—"

Diana finished tugging the last bit of the suit off her right leg before she looked upward to see a dark-haired teenage boy peering down at her from a balcony. Either her face or her now-revealed costume must have served as adequate credentials; instead of further challenging her right to be here, the lad gulped audibly before saying, "Wonder Woman!"

"The door was open, so I let myself in," she called up to him as she bent over to open the backpack. "I want to see . . . Bruce." (She'd nearly said 'Batman,' but thought better of it. That looked like the current Robin with his mask off—Tim Drake, in other words—but there _might_ be guests in the house who didn't know all the family secrets.)

She had pulled her tiara and lasso out of the pack, restored them to their rightful places, and was working on the second boot when Tim arrived on the ground floor.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you," he said now that they were on an equal footing. "You can speak freely; there's only the two of us up here. Bruce and Alfred are down below."

"How is he?" she asked immediately, deciding to postpone any getting-to-know-you small talk.

Tim appeared to be fine with that decision; he ran one hand through his hair and said, "'Still unconscious, but all vital signs stable.' That's the word as of four hours ago, when I saw Alfred at lunch. If anything had gone wrong since then, I'm sure he would have yelled for help."

She chewed on the implications of that status report. "'The word'? You mean you haven't seen for yourself?"

"I haven't laid eyes on Bruce in a couple of days," Tim nodded. "I wasn't around when he went after Doctor Death, and Batman doesn't want me coming down there to pester him or Alfred if I'm not needed. He may not be contagious, but he wants it treated like a quarantine ward down there. For the time being, Nightwing and Batgirl are working out of a smaller 'cave' located under Wayne Enterprises HQ, downtown. Unlike Nightwing, I still sleep under this roof, but I was going to meet them there tonight and get all suited up. Near as we can tell, the underworld hasn't figured out Batman is out of action, and we want to keep it that way."

"But he doesn't have anything contagious, as I understand it?"

"Apparently not. Alfred's come upstairs occasionally, and _he_ doesn't seem to be changing color or anything. He was looking a bit tired, last I saw, though, but that's no surprise."

"Then why did Bruce put himself in what amounts to quarantine?"

Tim shrugged. "We've talked about that—us younger folks, I mean. Nightwing thinks it's a matter of pride, mostly. As in: Bruce just can't stand the thought of us seeing him looking so unconscious and vulnerable, so he made sure we wouldn't. Batgirl's theory is a little different: She thinks he's doing it for our own psychological protection, so that when we're out fighting crime on his behalf we _won't_ constantly be getting distracted by worries about how bad he looked the last time we _saw_ him!"

"And which side do you favor?"

"I think they could _both_ be right! Barbara has a darn good point: It's easier not to obsess over something messy if you _haven't_ seen it with your own eyes, even though intellectually you know it's still happening."

"Out of sight; out of mind?" she asked, and Tim nodded while carefully keeping his eyes focused on her face.

Diana had long been amused by the effect she tended to have on young men meeting her for the first time. You'd think they had never seen a woman before—which was ridiculous in a world that had over three billion female inhabitants. Tim was doing a much better than average job of _not_ letting his gaze linger on her chest. In fact, she was tempted to congratulate him on that achievement, but refrained for fear he'd probably _assume_ she was mocking him instead of meaning it most sincerely as a tribute to his good manners and self-control!

Brushing that thought aside, she steered the conversation toward the essential point. "Tim, I'll be frank with you. I plan on going down there and seeing with my own eyes just how your mentor is doing."

The lad appeared to be gazing off into the distance as he said reflectively, "I'm sure Bruce wouldn't object to you, or any of his fellow 'founding members,' hanging around as a guest up here in the house. But in case I didn't make it clear: He left strict instructions that he didn't want anyone but himself and Alfred going down there into the Cave without dire necessity . . . and not going into the hospital area at all, _unless and until_ we were specifically invited."

She paused, unsure how to take that. "Are you saying you'll have to try and _stop_ me if I break Bruce's current rule by heading down into the Batcave right now?"

Tim was the very picture of wide-eyed innocence. "Stop you? What for? I just thought I'd _mention_ it."

Diana had been a rebellious adolescent, once upon a time—and not all that long ago, either. She only needed a moment to reverse-engineer the logic. "You mean that this way, when Batman asks if you informed me of the current No Visitors Policy, you can truthfully say that you did?"

"Bingo!"

She smiled warmly. "Well, now that we've gotten that formality out of the way, check me on this. I've only been here once before. From where we're standing: If I want to visit the Manor's library, I should go down _that_ corridor, turn left . . ."

"Then take the second door on the right, and you've found the library!" Tim agreed. "And if you want to borrow a book, that's fine, but whatever you do, while you're in there you absolutely should _not_ walk over to the big grandfather clock, reach into the front of its case, feel for the hidden switch about six feet above the ground on the right-hand side . . ."

He continued describing what no one was allowed to do at this moment in order to quietly open the secret entrance to the Batcave without triggering an alarm!

"Got it," she said briskly when his lecture was done. "If anyone asks, I'll say you gave me fair warning! Good luck patrolling the streets tonight! If you and your friends happen to need some heavy-duty backup, I'll probably be hanging around Gotham for a while. Just scream in agony over the airwaves and I'll come find you in a jiffy!"

"I'll _try_ not to take you up on that," Tim said with a grin.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm a great admirer of the sage advice which Alfred Pennyworth once gave to Dick Grayson (Robin) and Barbara Gordon (Batgirl) in "The Joining," the final episode of the fourth season of the animated series _The Batman._ After Bruce had given them an order which struck them as an Incredibly Bad Idea, Alfred offered the following pep talk:

_"There are times when I, too, disagree with Master Bruce's decisions. And when that happens, there's something I do that never fails to lift my spirits. I disobey him."_

Of course you know and I know that _The Batman_ wasn't a DCAU series, so that adventure never happened to any of the characters in this fanfic . . . but I figure the basic principle still applies! It's quite possible that this timeline's version of Alfred has said much the same thing to one or more of Bruce's proteges (such as Tim), somewhere along the line, in a scene which we simply never saw!


	3. 3rd Conversation: Diana and Alfred

**Author's Note:** Unlike Tim, Alfred Pennyworth definitely was on duty at the Manor when Wonder Woman first visited the place in "Starcrossed." So while they may not be "well acquainted," I figure they've at least _spoken_ to each other before!

P.S. I've now revised my Profile to include a list, in "chronological order," of all my Justice League fanfics. With the grand total standing at **16**, I decided my readers might find it helpful! (All of those stories are meant to fit into a single timeline of events, although I usually try to arrange the plots so that you can probably appreciate any given fanfic on its own terms without needing to remember the plots of eight or ten others!)

* * *

**Third Conversation: Diana and Alfred Pennyworth**

The Batcave had impressed Diana the first time she entered it, and nothing had changed since then. She could name at least a dozen other "underground lairs" in her experience which had fallen far short of achieving such a dark, brooding atmosphere. (Most of those had been artifically-built bunkers, full of flat concrete surfaces and ninety-degree angles, and seriously lacking in authentic native wildlife such as bats—all of which might have something to do with it!)

If you were standing in the "central" area, surrounded by computer screens and trophies and so forth, you couldn't even see the private hospital area. But Tim's instructions had been precise, so Diana zigged and zagged until she found where the hospital area had been set up. Unlike everything else, it was both walled off and roofed over; presumably to keep the bats out.

The word "quarantine" had come up in her conversation with Tim, and Diana hadn't been sure what to expect. Her sole previous visit to the Batcave had been brief, and no one had showed her this area. She half-expected to find the only beds for patients were located behind an airlock, with a requirement for everyone to strip down and pass through a shower with powerful antiseptic chemicals before they were allowed in or out.

It turned out she was only half-right. There _was_ a sealed room, made of transparent Plexiglass or something similar, and only accessible via an airlock arrangement. However, no one was lying on the bed in that room. After thinking it over, Diana decided that Batman must prefer to reserve that room for real emergencies involving contagious diseases, and his current situation didn't qualify.

Batman himself was stretched out on one of a half-dozen cots in what she arbitrarily dubbed "the main ward." Several feet away, Alfred Pennyworth was slumped in a very comfortable-looking chair. Diana had to move around it to confirm that his eyes were closed. She restrained herself from gently touching Alfred's shoulder to awaken him; the man looked like he needed his rest.

With the sole exception of Diana herself, the Amazons of Themyscira were thousands of years old but looked no more than thirty, so Diana literally had never seen a case of "old age" until just a few years ago when she had run away from home and invented the role of "Wonder Woman." She had always known that the phenomenon existed among mortals, and had even spent many hours reading up on it on the Internet after choosing to remain in "Man's World" for the foreseeable future, but she still had precious little experience in dealing with it up close. Her rule of thumb was to treat old people as particularly fragile. (Of course, to a woman with Amazonian strength, _most_ mortals seemed fragile!)

Batman was out cold and had an IV hooked into his arm. She thought of him as "Batman" in this situation because he'd only stripped off his gloves, boots, utility belt, and cape before collapsing onto the cot. (Or perhaps Alfred had removed those things after his employer was unconscious? Same difference.)

There was a clipboard on a nearby table with Alfred's careful notes on his employer's condition. It appeared that, each hour on the hour, the butler was checking pulse, temperature, and other items, in addition to having a few sensors hooked up to his employer's body. The notes did not say the sensors would trigger a noisy alarm if anything took a drastic change for the worse, but why else were they there?

Diana moved around the room without disturbing either of the two sleepers, aided by the fact that her boots never needed to touch the ground as she flitted from point to point. Finding nothing else of immediate interest, she settled into another chair to read some printouts of toxicological reference materials while she waited for something to happen.

Forty-four minutes later, something made a soft humming noise. It turned out to be a device concealed within Alfred's tuxedo; he touched it to make the device shut up, blinked a few times as he saw Diana seated across the room holding a finger to her own lips, then remembered his duty and did a quick check of his patient's vital signs, adding new notes to the clipboard, followed by stepping toward the exit and looking inquiringly at the unexpected guest. Diana took the hint and followed Alfred out of the miniature hospital.

He kept striding at a brisk pace until they were back in what she thought of as the "main area" of the cave, unlikely to disturb Batman's rest. Then he turned around and asked politely: "What may I do for you, Your Highness?"

"You could start by _not_ calling me that," she suggested. "Hardly anyone ever does, here in the 'outside world,' and I heard even less of it when I was growing up. With a small population where everybody knows everybody else by name, we Amazons don't need much pomp and circumstance."

"But you are the only child, and thus the direct heir, of a sovereign Queen?" Alfred seemed determined to treat her as the equivalent of a member of the British Royal Family; a comparison she could easily live without.

"There are heirs and then there are heirs," Diana observed. "Given that my mother has ruled for _thousands_ of years and is still going strong, my prospects of _actually_ inheriting a throne seem rather . . . remote. I'm not sure anyone on Themyscira seriously expects to ever see that happen. I'm certainly not sitting around at home just waiting for it!"

"No, I had noticed that last point myself," Alfred admitted. "But I am not about to call one of Master Bruce's honored guests by her unadorned first name, so what form of address would you prefer? If not 'Princess,' then perhaps 'Miss Wonder Woman'? Or even 'Ms. Wonder Woman'?"

"Most people just say 'Wonder Woman,' she suggested. "Think of it as a job title rather than a nickname, if that lets you feel properly formal about the whole thing. Besides, I think you may be giving me too much benefit of the doubt when you say 'honored guest.' I did arrive unexpected and uninvited, after all."

"I am happy to say that is inaccurate," Alfred said promptly. "For quite some time now, you have been on a short list of the Master's dearest friends; people who are to be extended every courtesy whenever they happen to drop in, with or without advance notice."

That sounded good, but it was a trifle vague. "Could you give me a few examples of what 'every courtesy' might mean in that context?"

Alfred raised his eyebrows. "In essence, whatever you needed and the hospitality of the Manor could provide. A room for the night; a hot meal; a change of apparel; the loan of an automobile . . . and for those friends such as yourself who are effectively Batman's 'co-workers' in the fight against villainy, it would naturally extend to the use of the special resources contained within this cavern."

"Wait!" Diana raised a hand, palm outward, and Alfred kept his mouth shut while she gathered her thoughts. "Are you saying that for quite some time now, Batman has had my name on a list of people who are _always_ welcome to sleep under his roof, and to be treated practically as if we were members of the family . . . except that he never bothered to tell _me_ about my standing invitation?"

There was more than a trace of amusement in Alfred's face, but his voice was quite bland as he replied reasonably: "As to what he has or has not told you when I was not within earshot . . . I really could not say. But the balance of your paraphrase of the situation is perfectly correct. Are you quite sure he never suggested your presence in his home would not be unwelcome in the future?"

Diana took a moment to untangle the syntax in that diplomatically phrased question—all those negatives made it tricky—then replied frankly: "I don't recall his _ever_ saying anything to the effect of 'I hope you will come by again.' I've always had the distinct impression that your employer prefers to keep his 'civilian identity' and his 'costumed identity' as separate as possible. The occasion when he suggested the League split up and reunite here was a unique case. The Thanagarian fleet controlled the skies; holding a meeting at the Watch Tower had become impractical even before Batman deliberately crashed it. But as soon as possible, we built a new Tower and went back to 'business as usual.'"

"Ah, yes. It was immediately after that bit of unpleasantness that Master Bruce placed your name, among others, on the list I mentioned. The Master is a very busy man in both of his identities; I _conjecture_ that if you ask him about this apparent discrepancy between what he told me and what he didn't tell you, he will merely point out that he can't be expected to remember every little thing."

She knew there was nothing to be gained by trying to argue the point any further with the butler; it wasn't his fault that his employer seemed to be _afraid_ to let her know she'd be welcomed with open arms if she ever wanted to pay a social call when the entire world _wasn't_ in peril!

So she smiled her sweetest smile and said, "Let's move on to a more constructive subject. I watched you checking and recording his vital signs. Walk me through anything else I need to know about the situation, and then you can go upstairs and get at least six hours of _uninterrupted_ sleep." (Strictly speaking, the word "can" made it a mere suggestion, but she wasn't going to take "no" for an answer.)

Alfred made some token protests about the Manor's guests not being required to do such menial tasks, and Diana suggested that he stop thinking of her as a "guest" for the time being and instead just regard her as "a friend trying to help a friend." A "guest" might expect to be waited on hand and foot, but a "concerned friend" was less fussy!

There was further argument on that point, but Diana stood firm. She could have rendered the old man unconscious with one deft move, and told herself (with considerable justification) that it was really for his own good, but she didn't relish the thought of trying to explain that to Bruce when he woke up.

* * *

**Author's Note:** It's Friday afternoon as I post this. I hope to have the next chapter ready by Monday morning. (I'll probably be offline for most of the weekend, so when I come back a few days from now, I'll find out, all at once, how people liked this latest installment!)


	4. 4th Conversation: Diana and Hippolyta

**Author's Note:** During "Fury," Hippolyta stated that documents from the outside world are forbidden on Themyscira on the grounds that they might have a corrupting influence. On the other hand, in "The Balance," the god Hermes bragged that a girl called Podenimus (apparently another name for Iris, goddess of the rainbow) had recently given him her cell number. This illustrates that at least _some_ of the figures of Greek Myth have now embraced modern telecommunications—although in that same scene Hermes was hand-delivering a command from Zeus to Diana which was written on a scroll. (Maybe Zeus just doesn't trust that newfangled technology? Or maybe he feels a Lofty Decree from the King of Olympus deserves the old-fashioned formalities, whereas less important messages can be sent by modern means for all Zeus cares?)

Anyway, if some of the Greek gods are using cellphones at least some of the time, then I'm working on the theory that shortly after Diana's banishment from Themyscira was revoked, Hippolyta felt justified in accepting from Diana a device which could be used to place long-distance calls to her daughter at any time, probably routing those calls through the Watch Tower and thus to the League-issue comm link which Diana always carries. That's my rationale for how this next conversation is even possible!

* * *

**Fourth Conversation: Diana and Hippolyta  
**(This conversation has been translated from the Ancient Greek for your convenience)

"Do you have time to talk?"

"Yes, Mother," Diana said absently, "all I'm doing is watching a man sleep."

It was only after she heard a gasp coming through the comm link in her ear that Diana began to realize how her simple statement of fact might have been . . . misinterpreted.

"He's a sick friend," she explained as she rose and moved out of the "main ward" to have some privacy, declining to mention that she and Batman could have been a lot more than "just good friends" by now if _he_ hadn't kept saying "no!"

Even so, she braced herself for a concerned lecture about the animal instincts of the male half of the human race.

That lecture was not forthcoming. Mother simply asked politely, "Is he expected to recover?"

"Yes. If the poison were going to kill him, it probably would have done so within the first hour or so. Now his body just needs plenty of rest."

Mother evidently had something weighing on her mind at the moment; she didn't waste any more time on small talk. "Diana, do you remember what I said when I revoked your previous banishment from the island?"

"Of course!" After a few moments of silence, Diana realized her mother had wanted more than just a quick affirmative to a rhetorical question. "You said that if the gods didn't like it, they would just have to take it up with you." She paused to ponder the implications of those words, then asked anxiously, "Has that finally happened?"

"No, but it's time that I raised the issue with them anyway! "

"Why rock the boat?" Diana couldn't help thinking that if the gods preferred to ignore the whole thing, there was no need to force them to take official notice of her breaches of the rules.

"I'm not trying to rock it; I'm trying to keep it from being swamped," Mother said, catching the metaphor immediately. "When you're sailing through stormy weather, doing nothing is a good recipe for drowning!"

"What storm?" Diana would have sworn nothing ever changed in Themysciran culture . . . which wasn't too surprising when you considered that most of the population had thousands of years' worth of fossilized behavior patterns to keep them acting predictably.

"A storm I didn't even know was brewing," Mother said ruefully. "This place is so tranquil, most of the time, that I let myself be fooled into thinking that was a permanent condition. But once you started shaking things up, I should have known better."

"_I_ did? I've only visited a few times in the last few years, and never to stir up trouble!"

"Diana," the Queen said carefully, "for thousands of years, no one on this island even had the chance to _speak_ to a mortal man. If some Amazons occasionally regretted that fact, they at least had the consolation of knowing that all of their sisters were in the same boat. And after the first few centuries, the complete lack of available temptation had made it easier for everyone to develop the habit of just burying such thoughts and leaving them be."

Diana was beginning to see where this was going. "But then I ran away to Man's World?"

"More to the point, eight months later you came back, bringing four very likeable _men_ with you!"

She was sorely tempted to quibble over whether a male _Martian_ really qualified as a "man," and also whether Flash had really been all that likeable a specimen of manhood at that early stage in his maturity . . . but she knew her mother would think she was trying to dodge the main point. (Besides, even Flash at his worst was probably about a thousand times more courteous to women than the men whom her mother's generation still vividly remembered from ancient times. Heracles, for instance!)

So she settled for saying: "And my friendship with them caused . . . some degree of _jealousy?_ I never realized!"

"Neither did I," Hippolyta confessed. "I banished you for bringing them to Themysciran soil, and I now suspect that countered the potential jealousy . . . for the time being. One Amazon had broken the ancient laws; she had been punished for it; a few men had _briefly_ visited us during an emergency and then left, never to return—and for everyone else, life could go on, the same as before!

"Then you and your friend Shayera came back to Themyscira as the only way to enter Tartarus, and I chose to revoke the sentence of banishment I had previously felt obligated to impose. I think that was when the trouble really started, although I didn't know it until a few days ago. Then Philippus came to me, very embarrassed by the news she bore, but thinking I ought to know that several of my subjects are now whispering that it is grossly unfair for the Queen's daughter to steal armor from the temple, leave the island without permission, socialize with men, bring men back to the island, and end up being forgiven for all of the above . . . and appointed our 'Ambassador' to boot . . . when the laws which she broke are still meant to bind _every other_ Amazon!"

There was really nothing to say to that, so Diana didn't even try.

Her mother continued: "Philippus did not care to name names, and I did not press the point. Especially since I can understand their point of view. It _is_ unfair! It does look as if the princess gets to ignore the sacred rules which the rest of us have lived by for millennia!"

Diana had a sinking feeling about where this was going. "Mother . . . are you trying to say you may have to reimpose my banishment?"

"No!" her mother snapped, and Diana felt her stomach muscles unclench. Hippolyta explained: "Reversing myself once was risky, but it felt like the right thing to do. Reversing my reversal of my original verdict would not only be unjust, but would make me a laughingstock! Your sister Amazons have known me for thousands of years. They are perfectly aware that I can make mistakes. They also know that once I realize where I went wrong, I try to correct the problem. But if I start wavering back and forth on the same issue, obviously unable to make up my mind, how long do you think they will continue to tolerate such a weak fool as their Queen?"

Diana blinked at that question. Hippolyta's rule had always seemed one of the natural constants of the universe, like the sun's habit of rising in the east and setting in the west on a regular basis. As Diana had recently pointed out to Alfred, being the only daughter of an _immortal_ Queen was not quite the same thing as being a mortal princess who expected to _inherit_ a lofty title and heavy responsibilities in the not-so-distant future. The idea that any appreciable number of Amazons would strive to overthrow Hippolyta—or, perhaps worse, simply stop listening to her?—was entirely new. That was the sort of chaos Diana only expected to see in governments dominated by _mortal men_.

She took a deep breath. "I see your point, Mother, but that leaves me wondering why you called to tell me about this. Is there something I can do to help you deal with the . . . unrest?"

"I believe so. If you recall your history lessons, Diana, then you know that the laws about Amazons _always_ staying on the island and _never_ allowing any men to visit were not just things I invented one day when I was bored. I merely repeated the commands I had heard from Aphrodite's own lips."

"Yes. I remember why those laws are called _sacred_ laws. That's why I didn't even try to argue when you banished me."

"As I look back, I wish I had handled that case differently. But I felt I had no authority to overturn Aphrodite's laws; I could only enforce them. When I changed my mind about making an exception for special circumstances, I half-expected Aphrodite herself to speak harshly to me within the next few days. So far, she has not. But the building resentment over these matters means I need to seek clear guidance from her and then announce the results to all the Amazons at once."

Diana considered. "So you're going to keep praying to her in the temple for as long as it takes to get a direct response?"

"After you return home, yes," Mother clarified. "I have not spoken face-to-face with Aphrodite for a very long time. I think we're about due. But when I bother her, I should like to have you at my side, ready to speak for yourself about the . . . unconventional . . . things you have done and the motives behind them, and also to share your understanding of how much Man's World has _changed_ since the days when Aphrodite decreed her faithful Amazons must remain entirely apart from it!"

Diana glanced back at where Batman was still out cold. "I don't intend to leave my friend before he is conscious. It may well be a few days before I can return home to assist you."

"So long?" Her mother's disappointment was palpable. Which was disturbing—an immortal grows accustomed to thinking in the long term. Just _how_ serious was the dissatisfaction regarding Diana's unique status as the only Amazon who spent most of her time away from Themyscira?

"I will use some of that time to think very carefully about exactly what I should report and suggest to the Goddess of Love," Diana said firmly. "Even if I were standing right next to you right now, I wouldn't be ready to face Aphrodite with a petition! You've sprung a lot on me, all at once, Mother. You must have been thinking about these matters for days, and I need some time to catch up!"

* * *

**Author's Note:** I want to clarify my ideas about Aphrodite's position in Hippolyta's chain of command. (If you don't care, skip this note!)

In the _first_ Wonder Woman story ever published (in _All-Star Comics #8_ in 1941), the script indicated that the Amazons were devout worshippers of Aphrodite in particular, and that she was the one who had _ordered_ them to hide on a secluded island, strictly isolated from men. This order had been rigidly obeyed for _thousands of years!_

Later stories from DC, written by various people and including occasional "reboots" to throw away decades of previous Wonder Woman continuity all at once, have sometimes contradicted the Golden Age material on such points as "do the Amazons worship Aphrodite _more_ than they do any other Greek god or goddess?" (Among other things.) Likewise, what little we saw in DCAU episodes regarding the history of that version of the Amazons included some original twists. For instance: Before "Paradise Lost" was broadcast, I don't think _any_ Wonder Woman story had ever suggested that Hippolyta and Hades were once a romantic couple!

Since it wasn't made clear one way or the other in the cartoons, I'm running with the idea that in the DCAU, as in the early Wonder Woman stories from the 1940s, the Amazons have always had a special relationship with Aphrodite as their main "patron goddess." So the ancient decree for the Amazons to stay hidden and isolated on Themyscira, with no man allowed to set foot on its soil, must have been handed down _by Aphrodite_ way back when.

Therefore, I figure that if Hippolyta wants the old rules modified after all these years—and/or just hopes to settle the _specific_ point of whether or not "the gods" will tolerate her recent decision to let Diana off the hook for having broken those rules in a good cause—then Hippolyta needs to take those questions up with Aphrodite, first and foremost, since that goddess was the one who _made_ the relevant rules in the first place! (As you may have guessed, this all relates to what will be happening in the _final_ chapter of this fanfic; the conversation set on Themyscira!)


	5. 5th Conversation: Batman and Diana

**Fifth Conversation: Batman and Diana**

Bruce Wayne opened his eyes and saw the most beautiful woman in the world peering down at him with a concerned look on her face.

After a few seconds, he managed to tear his gaze away from her and scan the environment long enough to determine he _probably_ wasn't in heaven yet. He was fairly confident that heaven's interior decorating would _not_ bear a striking resemblance to the layout of his beloved Batcave . . . although one never knew.

More to the point, he decided, was that he'd always had the strong impression that nobody ever felt weak and exhausted in heaven. Which he still did. And there was no way Wonder Woman was going to end up in hell, even if some foe had recently managed the remarkable trick of killing her . . . so by process of elimination, Bruce Wayne was still in the land of the living.

Gratified by this evidence that his deductive skills had not entirely deserted him, Bruce figuratively put on his "Batman hat" as he refocused his vision on the face of the aforementioned beautiful woman.

"Has anything terrible happened while I was out of it?" His voice sounded raspier than usual, but as far as he was concerned, that was all to the good.

"You mean, like an alien invasion, or a super-powered serial killer slaughtering world leaders, or someone poisoning a city's water supply? No, things have been as 'quiet' as they ever get in this sinful world. And your kids have been doing fine at covering for you here in Gotham."

"Then I don't understand why _you're_ down here," he said pointedly. "I left strict instructions about keeping people out of the Batcave unless there was a calamity brewing!"

"Yes. Yes, you did. Oddly enough, Tim and Alfred didn't seem inclined to throw me out on my ear just because of some arbitrary rule you invented while under the influence of a mad scientist's latest concoction."

Ah, so that was going to be their excuse! Well, he'd settle their hash later. What was the world coming to when a man couldn't even trust his oldest friend and his foster son to keep a lovely, sympathetic woman from paying a sick call?

"Of course, the fact that you'd previously told Alfred to extend me every courtesy, practically as if I were part of the family, might also have played a small role in his decision to tolerate my presence," she speculated, and then fixed those cool blue eyes on him. "Funny how you never told _me_ about my special status!"

Batman seriously considered having a sudden relapse and losing consciousness for the next couple of hours. With the biofeedback techniques he'd learned in the Far East, it would only take a matter of seconds for him to slip into a self-induced trance . . .

"Never mind," said Diana, ostentatiously brushing aside her last remark. "I'm not here to cross-examine you. Not right now, at least. Wouldn't be fair. Let's change the subject." Her gaze drifted to the bat-emblem on his chest and then slid back up toward his face. "You know, after I first saw you lying there, I was worried about the costume. It occurred to me that if it were still saturated with the super-allergen, your recovery might take an awfully long time. Alfred set me straight: You stripped off your old costume when you got home, stuffed it into a bag of things to be incinerated, then went through a thorough decontamination process, followed by pulling on most of a fresh costume, and _then_ letting Alfred inject you with the antidote after you lay down on that cot!"

She paused as if waiting for some comment, but Batman didn't have any problem with what she had just said, so he simply gazed back at her impassively.

She clarified her point. "I'm not sure anyone else in the League would have taken the time to do it that way _during_ a medical emergency."

"I wouldn't be caught dead in one of those drafty hospital gowns."

"Ah."

"How long have I been out?"

"It's been about three and a half days since you called the Tower to report your condition. I arrived the following afternoon."

He did the math. "Eighty-four hours?"

"Maybe a bit longer."

He scowled. "I knew the super-allergen would take a lot out of me, and the antidote would also be rough . . . but I still should have woken up much sooner. It's almost as if someone were dosing me with a powerful sedative . . ." His voice trailed off as he saw how Diana's lovely face had gone very blank; the same lack of emotion which you might see in a poker game when the guy across from you had just drawn a card that turned two small pairs into a full house and he didn't want the other players to see him grinning from ear to ear.

Batman peered at the IV needle going into his wrist, then at the bag of liquid at the other end of the tube feeding the needle, then glared at her. "_You knew_."

The problem with using his best glare on people who had known him for years was that they'd gradually acquired some immunity. Instead of flinching or making excuses, Diana shrugged expressively and smiled as if the matter were of no consequence. "It's all meticulously noted on this chart." She waved a clipboard in the air. "Alfred felt there was no point in having you wake up yesterday or the day before, when the lingering effects would still be painful. You didn't need the extra stress, so he made sure you'd sleep through the worst of it. Obviously you _trust_ him to make big decisions about proper medical treatment—who am I to second-guess him on dosage levels?"

"So you didn't even try," he observed sourly.

"Bruce," she said, "do you remember the time when Copperhead sank his fangs into your shoulder and the venom knocked you flat?"

Rhetorical question, he assumed, but he bent over backwards (by his standards) by giving her a slight nod of agreement.

"We got you back to the Tower; we treated you; we put you in a bed; and _Superman_ said you needed to stay on the sick list while the rest of us kept working the case. Given that he has X-Ray vision and all that, I think his opinion qualified as 'an expert diagnosis' instead of 'a layman's guess.' So five of us headed back down to Earth; J'onn stayed behind to man the fort . . . and what happened after the rest of us were gone?"

He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of answering. It might sound as if he were getting defensive and trying to explain why he had done what he had.

Unperturbed by this lack of cooperation, Diana proved herself perfectly capable of carrying the conversation single-handedly if need be. "What you did was yank out an IV and head to the shuttle bay so you could fly down to Earth and work the case in your own way! J'onn didn't know you so well in those days; he made the elementary mistake of trying to _reason_ with you about whether you were overdoing it. Specifically, he assured you there was no need to worry about proving to us that, despite lacking special powers, you were just as worthy a member of the League as anybody else."

That was close enough enough to the way Batman remembered that speech . . .

"But he was wasting his breath. You didn't even offer a counterargument; you just _ignored_ everything he said and kept heading for the nearest Javelin! Making it clear that he'd have to use force to stop you— at which point he backed down. By the time J'onn told me about that little scene, he'd figured out his own mistake. You weren't pushing yourself extra-hard just to impress him . . . or me . . . or anyone else, right?" She paused, but Batman still wasn't in the mood to answer blatantly rhetorical questions, so she forged ahead. "J'onn finally remembered that you'd already been 'Batman' for years before anyone ever heard of a 'Justice League,' and you had a strong _self-image_ to maintain. If you stayed in that infirmary bed for hours after you felt capable of walking away, you'd be profoundly disappointed in yourself. What anyone else on the entire planet would think of your job performance was never the point!"

He supposed that was true enough. When he'd heaved himself out of bed that day, it hadn't been with any thought to putting on a show for J'onn. It had just felt like something that needed to be done.

Diana was continuing: "I remember thinking that if it ever happened again, our best bet would be to dose you with something that knocked you out like a light for at least twenty-four hours while your body started the recovery process . . . and we could apologize _later_."

_And Mr. Terrific wondered why I didn't want to be treated in the Tower's infirmary . . ._

Diana spread her hands. "I don't expect you to agree with me. I just wanted to explain that I understand Alfred's thinking. But now that you are awake, is there anything I can do for you?"

To his horror, Batman found himself struggling with the temptation to put the "Bruce Wayne" hat back on and make some shamelessly flirtatious remark, much as he would have done if he'd been visiting a regular clinic and waiting for a cute nurse to give him a routine booster shot. He throttled the impulse and merely said: "A glass of water, please."

"Coming right up!" Diana moved across the room to a sink and filled a paper cup. Meanwhile, Batman forced himself up into a sitting position on the cot, which only took about three times as long as it should have and left him feeling light-headed.

Diana must have noticed the signs of strain. She insisted on placing a straw in the cup and holding it steady for him. The implication was that she feared he'd spill the water if he tried to handle the cup.

Batman would have protested being treated like a child . . . except for the nagging suspicion that if she took him at his word and let him handle the cup himself, he just _might_ end up spilling the water all over himself. Which wouldn't do his dignity any good. Worse yet, it would give her a perfect excuse to rip off his wet shirt for his own good, and there was no telling where _that_ sort of thing might lead!

* * *

**Author's Note:** As you've probably guessed, what I had Wonder Woman say about J'onn J'onnz's "second thoughts" about his chat with a recently-poisoned Batman (during Part 1 of "Injustice for All") is based on my gut reaction when I _first_ watched that scene. The way I remember it, I wanted to say to J'onn: "Talk about missing the point! Batman isn't afraid of failing to impress _you_; he's far too busy living up to _his own_ sky-high expectations!"


	6. 6th Conversation: Bruce and Diana

**Author's Note:** I'm rushing this one to get it posted before I go offline for the weekend, so I hope I've weeded out the typoes, but I apologize if I haven't. I know it was a long wait; I didn't mean for it to be. At one point, I cleverly managed to lose the flash drive with the latest draft on it . . . followed by getting very sick for a few days. I assure you the last two chapters won't take so long as this one did; partial rough drafts are already written.

* * *

**Sixth Conversation: Bruce and Diana**

Amazons didn't get sick.

Wounded in battle? Always possible, but Themyscira had seen precious little warfare in the last three thousand years or so. (Something to do with the outside world not even knowing where Themyscira was . . .)

Injured in accidents? Occasionally.

Transformed into statues by a ruthless sorcerer? This had also been known to happen.

But infected with a disease, or allergic reaction, or otherwise left feeling debilitated for days at a time, all over, instead of just having aches and pains in a specific portion of the body? _Never._ An extremely rugged immune system was one of the side effects of the divine gift of immortality. So was the ability to heal from physical trauma much faster than the average mortal.

Such being the case, years ago Diana had arrived in Man's World with no practical knowledge of how you were supposed to behave when visiting a truly _sick_ friend. But she had subsequently read up on the subject. The usual guidelines included: _Don't insist on endless conversation when the patient is already fatigued, don't dwell on controversial subjects which raise stress levels, stay as upbeat and sympathetic as possible . . . _all of which she had meant to put into effect when Bruce first awoke while she was on watch.

In that instance, the patient hadn't exactly helped when he started out by questioning _why_ she was in the Batcave at all—she'd thought the answer was blindingly obvious—but he hadn't actually gotten around to ordering her to leave, either.

Not that she'd given him much time to think of it. After providing a drink of water, Diana had volunteered to go alert Alfred that his "Master Bruce" was conscious at last. Then she had stayed up in the house so that whatever Bruce said to his butler—regarding recent dosage levels, for instance?—would be strictly private.

Not wanting to feel that she was taking advantage of a sick mortal, Diana had postponed any _serious_ conversation with the Dark Knight for another couple of days. She waited until after he was spending much of his time up in the Manor, in civilian clothes. In her heart, she didn't really believe "Bruce Wayne" and "Batman" were two separate personalities residing in the same skull and taking turns in the driver's seat. She merely believed that the owner of that skull was bound and determined to _act_ as if such were the case . . . which, from an outside observer's perspective, amounted to _nearly_ the same thing!

And she definitely preferred to have a certain conversation with this man when he was in "Bruce Wayne Mode."

So she made arrangements with Alfred to usher her into "Master Bruce's" presence in the dining room just after he had finished his breakfast. She knew better than to offer Alfred a "generous tip" or "gratuity" (or anything a small-minded person might call a "bribe"), but simply explained what she wanted and found him surprisingly cooperative.

Alfred said, "The lady wishes to speak with you, Master Bruce," and then tactfully left the room so they could speak freely.

Bruce looked up from the newspaper in his hands (three other papers were scattered on the dining table) and asked, "Something on your mind?"

"You don't treat that man right," she said without preamble, and watched him blink. Whatever he'd expected to hear, this wasn't it.

After a moment: "You mean Alfred?"

"He didn't want to leave you alone down there in the Cave for hours at a time with nothing but those gadgets to monitor your condition. And you'd ordered your protégés to keep their distance, which left it all on his shoulders. Alfred was sleeping in a chair by your bed when I found him. Every hour on the hour, a timer would wake him up to double-check your vitals and then he'd try to fall asleep again. _In the chair_. I don't think he trusted himself to wake up right away if he were stretched out on another cot." She paused to let her audience of one visualize that, then hammered the point home: "This would have gone on for days if I hadn't come along and announced I was taking the next shift."

Bruce hesitated before finally saying: "That wasn't quite what I had in mind when I told him to keep the kids out of my hair. If I'd thought I needed a nurse watching me around the clock, I wouldn't have expected Alfred to do it all by himself. I'd have. . ." His voice trailed off.

Diana gave him plenty of time to figure out how he intended to finish that sentence. What would he have done? Called an employment service and hired three nurses, all strangers, to come tend him in the Batcave? Or had Alfred drag him upstairs to Bruce Wayne's master suite, and then hope the nurses wouldn't wonder how the patient had been exposed to a specially bred super-allergen?

Then Bruce surprised her by saying: "Taken my chances in the Tower's infirmary after all."

His tone would have hurt the feelings of the Tower's medical staff if they'd been within earshot; it carried all the enthusiasm of a man talking about being skinned alive in the near future. She didn't directly address that point, though. "I love the way you make it clear that what the rest of us do routinely, when injured on the job, is only an option of last resort as far as _you're_ concerned. Until then, if your faithful butler _doesn't_ complain, you figure there's no problem with placing everything on his shoulders? Just when was the last time he did complain about his working conditions?"

As Bruce opened his mouth, she raised a palm. "Before you answer: I mean _major_ complaints; not just little witticisms about the many strange tasks which are expected of Batman's butler."

"Um . . ."

"I'm serious about this, Bruce," she said, pressing her advantage. It wasn't every day that you managed to put this man on the defensive. "Alfred Pennyworth is too proud to say this to you, but he isn't as young as he used to be. He isn't even as _middle-aged_ as he used to be. Yet you still expect him to single-handedly take care of everything in this huge house, every day of the year. Tell me: How will you handle it if he ever has to retire? "

"I wouldn't try to stop him," Bruce said defensively. "Alfred could quit tomorrow morning on any terms he pleased. If he wants me to lease a castle in Merry Old England and fill it with servants to wait on _him_ for a change so that he can live like a duke in his declining years, he only has to say so. Or if he'd rather have a nice warm island in the Caribbean, I'll _buy_ him one!"

Her mouth quirked. "Not quite what I meant. I'm sure Alfred would get by, but what would _you_ do without _him_? Who would cook your meals, clean your carpets, stitch up your wounds, handle your laundry, make plausible excuses for 'Bruce' whenever 'Batman' was away on a case, and even change the oil in the Batmobile?'

"I can do my own oil changes!"

"Really?"

"Well . . . Alfred showed me once. I'm sure I could do it again if I had to."

"And you'd also cook your own food?" Diana had tasted several samples of Alfred's cooking over the last few days, and strongly doubted that Bruce Wayne could do half as well on the best day of his life. Even if he were willing to take that much time out of his crimefighting schedule and spend it in the kitchen instead.

Bruce hesitated, glancing down at the crumbs on the plate still in front of him. "I admit I'd . . . rather not."

"So what would you eat if Alfred quit, or something else happened? Please don't tell me that you, of all people, have no fallback plan."

"They're doing wonderful things with robotics nowadays," Bruce pointed out. "Look at our teammate Red Tornado."

Diana took a few seconds to assimilate that. "So your plan would be to end up with a house full of cutting-edge robots doing the cooking, cleaning, laundering, maintenance and repairs . . . and what with Dick Grayson having already moved out, and Tim bound to want a place of his own, sooner or later—you'd become the _only_ living thing under this roof? Perhaps for decades?"

"'Plan' is a strong word," Bruce objected. "It's an option to be considered when the time comes. Besides, I could always get a Great Dane or a German Shepherd to keep me company. I like a well-behaved dog. Unlike people, they don't gossip about their friends."

She had precious little experience with canines, but supposed that was true. "One dog and a bunch of robots. All meekly doing whatever you said, I suppose, instead of offering any critical feedback. Were you planning to start buying the robots today?"

"No."

"Bruce, I think we've drifted from my main point. I wasn't just talking about how you would cope if Alfred retired a few years from now. I was saying that you're overworking him _now_. If he doesn't want to retire, then he still deserves some _help_ so he doesn't wear himself out trying to be the entire support staff for the World's Greatest Detective."

Bruce Wayne cut right to the chase. "But you don't like the 'robot servant' idea, so _where_ do you suggest I start looking for other people I can trust as much as Alfred? Or should I bring in servants who are total strangers, and end up with a 'home environment' where I can't even speak freely about my plans for the night whenever I'm up here instead of down there?" He jerked a thumb toward the floor to indicate the hidden Batcave.

"I don't see you going for that second option," she admitted. "But some civilians are more dependable than others."

"If Alfred vouched for a nephew or niece who wanted a career in domestic service, I'd risk it," he conceded. "But failing that . . ."

"Other good people have families too," she pointed out. "A fair number of our friends in the League aren't wealthy. Several must have energetic younger siblings or other relatives who'd appreciate a chance to work their way through college. If they don't run off at the mouth about the secret identities of their own flesh and blood, you can figure they won't blow the whistle on a relative's teammate, either."

Bruce was already shaking his head. "True, many of our colleagues don't come from 'old money.' But I don't rub their noses in the fact."

Her face must have showed some confusion; Bruce quickly clarified his point. "Diana, most of our fellow Leaguers don't realize that 'Batman' is also the richest man in Gotham. They treat me as just one more guy hanging around the clubhouse. Grim at times, but still a 'social equal.' That's the way I like it. Reduces the risk of, say, Vibe or Plastic Man trying to hit me up for 'loans' which they will be in no hurry to repay since they know I won't suffer if they don't.

"But suppose I take the risk of letting dozens of additional people know my secrets, and asking them to help me find reliable help. So I end up hiring, let's say, two girls to work as part-time maids under Alfred's supervision. What happens if one of the new hires does something that deserves getting fired, and I hesitate because I don't want to start a feud with her big brother? Or what if a bunch of us Leaguers are out in the field together and there's an argument over what to do next? I don't want people reflexively taking my side—or simply being afraid to contradict me with an honest opinion—just because they're worried about whom I might fire if I feel offended. My two lives really _shouldn't_ be mixed."

Diana had never tried to maintain a "secret identity." All her life, everyone around her had known she was the one and only princess of Themyscira. She wasn't accustomed to thinking in terms of concealing your wealth and social status from your own friends. (Nor from anyone, really, but _especially_ not from the same people whom you trusted with your life when it was time to go save the world again!)

But by the same token, Amazons on Themyscira helped each other without needing any "national currency" as a way to keep score of how well anyone was doing. Had there ever been a famine on the island, Queen Hippolyta would not have gorged herself each night while most of her subjects went to bed hungry. If someone's residence were knocked down by a storm, dozens of other Amazons would join forces to build a new one without expecting "wages" for their trouble. Of course, everyone knew everyone else on their island. In the outside world, there were simply too many people for that sense of solidarity to bind them all together. How could you feel that kindly towards billions of people you'd never seen or heard of?

While she'd pondered the differences between his native culture and hers where "socioeconomic classes" were concerned, Bruce had been watching her face intently. She didn't know what he'd seen there, but he gave her time to sort out her thoughts before he spoke again.

"Let me give you an example of how much trouble other people's concerns about _my_ fortune can cause. Once upon a time I thought I was going to get married, and the whole 'finding ways to fight crime' thing would just have to be squeezed in around the framework of being, first and foremost, a husband who wanted to spend _lots_ of time with his wife—and children, once they started arriving."

That was new information! She didn't say a word; fearing to make Bruce reconsider sharing this with her.

"You can see it didn't happen. My fiancée—Andrea Beaumont—broke up with me and vanished from Gotham. Do you know what drove her away?"

Diana shook her head.

"Lack of money."

She blinked.

His mouth twisted into something that might be called a very cynical smile. "Not _my_ lack of it. Andrea's father was facing death unless he handed over a huge sum to a gangster named Valestra. Apparently he'd embezzled it and then invested overseas. He couldn't cash it all in as fast as Valestra wanted it—so he decided to flee the country and change his name, and take his daughter along for safekeeping." He paused, obviously inviting comment.

"But if you could have helped—"

Bruce shook his head. "I didn't even learn what the problem had been until ten years later. I just knew she sent back the engagement ring with a note saying 'forget about me' and then vanished. If Andrea had asked me for a few million dollars to save her father's skin, I would have written out the check in a heartbeat. But she didn't. Afraid to, I suppose."

"Afraid?" For a moment, Diana worried about the mental health of any woman who had gotten close enough to Bruce Wayne to be preparing to marry him, and yet feared he might get physically abusive over mere money—

"Afraid I would think she was setting a _cash price_ on our 'love," Bruce clarified. "Andrea had her pride. She didn't want us to spend the rest of our lives staring at each other across the dinner table with me wondering if she'd have _refused_ to marry me if I hadn't been willing to cough up big bucks for the sake of rescuing my foolish father-in-law-to-be from the consequences of his own mistakes."

Diana had to think that over. Historically, there had been plenty of male-dominated cultures in which wives were literally bought and paid for. If a cash transaction for a woman's body was only for a temporary liaison, it was called "prostitution," but if it supposedly marked the beginning of a lifetime contract, it was called "making proper marriage arrangements."

But modern Americans had little respect for those hairsplitting distinctions. They had more romantic ideas about marriage, and this young woman—Andrea—wouldn't have relished the thought of apparently trying to squeeze a large "down payment" out of her sweetheart before their wedding ceremony "closed the deal."

With an effort, Diana refrained from asking for follow-up on just what had happened to Andrea Beaumont and her father in the long run. If Bruce thought she needed to know, then he'd tell her, but the set of his jaw suggested this was a painful subject. That probably meant someone had died and he felt a sense of failure.

She finally said, "When you warned me that you were a rich kid with lots of issues, you didn't explain that the riches were _responsible_ for some of the other issues!"

He shrugged. "Maybe I thought it was obvious. I like wealth better than I'd like poverty, but that doesn't mean it comes with no strings attached. Do you see why I prefer to keep my identities separate?"

Diana seized the opening. "I can see why you don't want everyone to equate 'Batman' with 'vast wealth.' But that doesn't prove that 'Batman' should never fraternize with anybody he meets in the League."

Bruce folded his arms and looked skeptical, but didn't take the bait. Of course he would think he knew where she was going with this, but she planned to go the long way around, laying a foundation for certain points she needed to establish. So she said: "Do you remember telling me that 'dating within the team _always_ leads to disaster'?"

He nodded, and she pressed onward. "It's been a while. Things have changed since we had that little chat. People who obviously disagree with you on that point now include Flash and Fire, Green Arrow and Black Canary, and John Stewart and Vixen. Are you still convinced that those couples are _doomed_ to see their romances crash and burn?"

"Shayera's thing with John certainly went down the tubes."

"But the big problem had nothing to do with both of them being in the League," Diana corrected. "Whatever they had was bound to fall apart after we realized Shayera had secretly been spying on Earth for the Thanagarian military."

"Of course, the discovery that she'd never mentioned the fiancé waiting back home didn't help her credibility either," Bruce observed drily.

"True—but again, that proves nothing about special risks facing _teammates_ who start dating. _Any_ woman whom John dated could have been equally dishonest about another man in her life!"

Bruce tacitly conceded the point . . . by not arguing it any further. Instead, he shifted ground. "Back to your question: I haven't noticed any of the people you named announcing a wedding date."

"At least two of them will," she said confidently. "Arrow and Canary. And I don't mean several years down the road."

He blinked. "Canary told you that?"

"She didn't have to. It's obvious that the only reason they haven't married yet is that _she_ didn't feel ready to make the leap. But she isn't nearly as nervous about it as she used to be. Fairly soon, I expect her to make it clear to her boyfriend that it's about time for him to propose if he knows what's good for him!"

Bruce raised his eyebrows. "Is that how it's done?"

She ignored that question. "When they wed, will you admit that _sometimes_ intra-team dating works out fine?"

"Lots of marriages end in divorce," Bruce argued. "Even if Ollie and Dinah 'make it legal,' that won't prove they did a wise thing by getting involved in the first place. If their marriage turns into a train wreck, at least one will have to quit the team while tempers cool."

Diana folded her arms. "Are you serious? I suppose that after they've been happily married for two years, you'll claim they can't last five, and after five, you'll suggest they won't make it to ten, and so forth? And the same endless pessimism for any other superhero couples who tie the knot? Anything but admit that you were _wrong_ when you pretended it was a natural law that dating a teammate will 'never' work out?"

That was when something buzzed in the pocket of his yellow shirt.

Bruce hauled out his Justice League comm link and shoved it into his ear, while Diana realized she'd missed a trick. She'd made sure hers was turned off before commencing this conversation, but now she wished she'd found a way to ensure his wouldn't interrupt them either.

It was creepy to hear _Batman's_ voice suddenly coming from Bruce's unmasked face. She didn't glean much from the side of the conversation she could hear—mostly "yes" and "no" and other terse remarks—but when it was over, Bruce looked across the table at her and said, "Duty calls. I'm not back to one hundred percent yet, but Mister Terrific says that Doctor Light is begging for help in analyzing the M.O. of a super-powered killer in Tokyo. She figures she can handle the rough stuff herself if I can deduce where to find him."

Diana did not actually grind her teeth together, but it was a close call. If there was one thing she knew about the man she loved, it was that she'd be shooting herself in the foot if she tried to distract him from his "duty" by suggesting he linger long enough to finish a personal conversation before he went hunting a murderer.

"But first I want to ask you a special question. One I've never asked a woman before."

"Yes?"

"Will you keep an eye on my city until I get back?"

She wanted to say yes, but remembered another obligation. "I need to fly to Themyscira today to help my mother with something. Hopefully, it will all be wrapped up before sunset, Eastern Daylight Time. _If so_, I can patrol Gotham tonight."

"I appreciate that," he said fervently. "The kids have been doing well, but sooner or later someone is going to realize Batman isn't out on the streets at night, perhaps even notice I'm in Japan, and then the sky's the limit." He got a faraway look in his eye. "Let's see . . . what do you need to know? Concentrate on the hours of darkness—that's when the vermin come out to play. Get plenty of rest in the daytime. Remember that some of my foes wouldn't hesitate to firebomb a building on the north side of town to create a diversion before they hit the real target on the south side." He glanced at her golden lasso. "You will want to carry some extra ropes, _expendable_ ones, so that after you tie up one gang of thugs, you needn't wait for the police to arrive before you can depart the scene to go after the _next_ gang . . ."

* * *

**Author's Note:** For anyone who wasn't sure, I will explain a few references.

The _good_ Doctor Light is a Japanese woman who was part of the DCAU's Justice League, but got very little dialogue and character development. She should not be confused with the _bad_ Doctor Light, a white guy with a goatee who was a recurring villain in the _Teen Titans_ animated series around the same time. (They have similar costumes and powers.) Whenever I mention the good one in a fanfic, I explain this for the benefit of those readers who _only_ remember the bad guy when they see the name "Doctor Light."

Young Bruce Wayne's short-lived engagement to Andrea Beaumont was presented in flashback scenes in the animated film _Batman: Mask of the Phantasm_. When she broke his heart by sending back the engagement ring and disappearing, he decided there was nothing to do for it but spend the rest of his life dressing up each night in a scary Bat-costume and going out on the dark streets in search of an excuse to beat somebody up. (Let's face it: some men just don't handle rejection well.) As I had him state here, it was only a _decade_ later that he finally learned what Andrea's _real problem_ had been! _  
_

Batman's statement to Wonder Woman that "I'm a rich kid with issues. Lots of issues" occurred in the _Justice League Unlimited_ episode "This Little Piggy." It was in that same conversation that he claimed "dating within the team always leads to disaster."


	7. 7th Conversation: Diana and Mr Terrific

**Seventh Conversation: Diana and Mister Terrific**

Half an hour later: After giving her a crash course on what to expect on a bad night in Gotham, Bruce had disappeared to change into costume and then had grabbed a duffel bag which Diana gathered was one of several that Alfred kept pre-packed for such emergencies.

Now he was in Japan, and no telling when he'd come back. In theory, he could have planned on simply teleporting to and from the Manor at regular intervals, but Diana suspected he would regard that as fostering lazy and frivolous habits. One he was "on the case," he'd prefer to be ready, willing, and able to work around the clock, if need be, until the perpetrator had been subdued and handed over to the authorities.

After Batman left, Diana had eaten a six-egg omelet for breakfast—cholesterol was another thing immortal Amazons never worried about—and had informed Alfred that it looked like she'd be continuing to use the same room upstairs for a few more days. Then she had descended to the Batcave again, mostly to see if she'd left any personal items down there during her recent shifts in the hospital area. Now it was about time to keep her promise to her mother, but first . . .

She activated her own comm link. "Wonder Woman to the Tower."

It took ten seconds to get a response—there must have been another call to wrap up. Then Mister Terrific's voice said, "Tower reads you."

"Just letting you know I'm about to head home to Themyscira on urgent personal business. Consider me unavailable for anything less than an Omega-level threat until further notice. In fact: somewhere along the line, I'll probably have my comm link turned off for about an hour."

"Roger that."

"Also, I've promised Batman that after I get back, I'll concentrate on Gotham each night as long as he's halfway around the world in Japan."

"Duly noted." A brief pause. "I don't think we've ever had that happen before. Batman calls for League assistance if something massively dangerous happens in Gotham, but otherwise he just lets his hand-picked protégés—Batgirl, Nightwing, and Robin—handle things on nights when he's not going to be available."

She'd been wondering about precedents, actually. "Didn't I hear about a time before the founding of the League when _Superman_ dressed up in a Batman suit to keep the lid on things in Gotham?"

"True—but as I heard it, that was something Robin and Superman cooked up between themselves because Batman was incommunicado. He didn't even know until it was all over."

"Ah." Diana felt a warm glow at the thought that she was the first teammate Batman had actually trusted enough to voluntarily leave the welfare of his city in her hands. Most of the time, he was so territorial about "my turf" that he made an aggressive male lion look no more than mildly possessive by comparison.

She hadn't been sure she was going to mention this, but now succumbed to the urge. "By the way, when you called him half an hour ago? You couldn't have realized, but your timing was execrable."

"I wouldn't know about 'execrable,' but it wasn't exactly _my_ timing."

"Whose, then?"

"Yesterday afternoon, Batman called me up and begged me to keep an eye peeled for a certain signal from a beeper he'd have on his person for the next few days. Not his regular comm link; a backup. When I received the signal, I was to call him right back with 'breaking news' of an important mission, somewhere far away. So I checked the latest list of Justice Leaguers requesting the help of the World's Greatest Detective . . . there's always someone . . . and selected the unsolved case with the highest body count. That was Dr. Light's situation in Tokyo."

As soon as Terrific had said _Batman called,_ Diana had sensed what was coming. By force of will, she'd kept her mouth clamped shut until he finished talking. One of Bruce's hands had been below the level of the tabletop just before that comm link buzzed in his shirt pocket . . .

Now she said tightly, "Thank you for explaining that," and cut the connection, not trusting herself to stay civil if this conversation went on any longer.

Diana prided herself on keeping her temper under tight control. But every rule had its exceptions, and this sure felt like one of them!

If she vented her outrage on any of the expensive equipment down here in the Cave, Bruce would notice when he returned. Even if she cleaned out the debris and replaced it with a new unit of the same model as the old one, she had to assume he'd notice the lack of a scratch on the casing, or the different serial number, or the fact that the new unit was a millimeter out of position, or some silly thing.

Besides, Alfred would probably be shocked by such "unladylike" behavior, even if he didn't say that in so many words . . .

She rose off the ground and flew off into one of the natural tunnels winding away from the cave. After three hundred yards, her boots touched down next to a hefty boulder which looked as if it had been sitting here for at least five centuries and probably weighed at least two metric tons.

She reached for it . . .

A few minutes later, she was wiping dust from her hands. There was now an estimated 1.999 tons of gravel carpeting the floor of this stretch of tunnel. Plus a couple of kilos' worth of dust still filling the air. Without any wind in here to keep it agitated, it would eventually settle.

Once back in the main area of the Batcave, Diana sprayed water over herself to get the rest of the rock-dust off, and reflected that it was _encouraging_, in a twisted sort of way, to discover that on the one hand, Bruce was willing to have a frank talk about personal matters with her—but on the other, he apparently didn't trust himself if the conversation went on too long! That suggested a man who consciously feared he was already teetering on the brink of abandoning some of his self-imposed rules in the face of temptation . . .

That thought comforted her all the way to Themyscira. This recent sojourn in Wayne Manor had already given Diana some new ideas for things to mention to the Goddess of Love and Beauty, and this fresh insight into Bruce Wayne's psychological condition tended to support her current plans for the conference her mother hoped to have today.

* * *

**Author's Note:** For anyone who doesn't remember: Superman dressed up as Batman while patrolling the mean streets of Gotham in "Knight Time," an episode of _Superman: The Animated Series._ As Mr. Terrific suggests in this chapter, Clark was being coached by Robin (Tim Drake) while Bruce was "missing in action" and hadn't approved the idea. So Wonder Woman is justified in feeling she's received a unique honor by being _invited_ to take up the slack in Gotham in Batman's absence.

Coming up next! The final scene of the story; the "One on Themyscira" mentioned in the title.


	8. The One on Themyscira

**Author's Note: **The plot of this chapter was originally conceived for a humorous one-shot, but while I was outlining "Seven Conversations" a couple of months ago, it occurred to me that I might be able to adjust the plot a little and splice this material in at the end. That was when I added "(Plus One on Themyscira)" to my intended title, and also inserted a chat between Diana and her mother into the middle of the story to lay a foundation for this scene. (Originally I was going to have another scene with Diana and Alfred in which she spoke frankly about her feelings for Bruce, with Alfred giving the strong impression (without quite saying) that he was rooting for her. I actually _wrote_ part of that scene, but now I won't be posting it.)

P.S. Every time we saw other members of the League visit Diana's home turf on Themyscira, they seemed to have _no trouble_ communicating with Hippolyta and the other Amazons. So I'm running with the idea that, despite millennia of isolation, _all Amazons_ speak fluent Modern English in addition to Ancient Greek (and possibly other languages as well).

* * *

**The One on Themyscira: Hippolyta, Diana, and Aphrodite**

Once upon a time it had pleased Aphrodite to create thousands of female figures from clay and impart the breath of life into each. These became her faithful Amazon "daughters." For some reason, the Goddess of Love and Beauty had then told her creations to study the arts of _war_, and for many years the Amazons had a well-earned reputation for being both honorable allies and ferocious enemies, depending on how they were treated by their neighbors.

In olden times, Hippolyta had spoken with Aphrodite fairly often. Now she wasn't even sure how many centuries it had been since the last time she had laid eyes on her creator. Too long, perhaps, but one didn't like to trouble a goddess over trifles. If you called her to ask for advice every hundred years or so, she might tire of such incessant interruptions and stop taking your calls!

Today, by royal command, the temple on Themyscira was empty, save only for Hippolyta herself and her daughter Diana, and they had been chanting a ritual prayer for about a third of an hour and counting, with no signs of any divine response thus far. They were prepared to keep this up all day and all night, if need be, but Hippolyta hoped it wouldn't come to—

The temple filled with light as something a few paces away from the supplicants flashed in all the colors of the rainbow, and then those lights coalesced into a female form. For some reason, Hippolyta had expected the goddess to arrive wearing a traditional chiton—or possibly nothing at all, which had happened before in the old days—but instead Aphrodite was dressed in what Hippolyta could only assume to be "modern clothes." Tight trousers made of coarse blue cloth, a sleeveless shirt that fit her torso very snugly and appeared to have the face of a handsome man on it, white shoes of some slick substance, and some flat green lenses in a metal frame were pushed up onto the goddess's forehead.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, darlings," the Goddess of Love said in flawless English, "but I just _had_ to see what happened when Terri finally told her husband that the baby really _was_ his, after all! _Secret Hearts,_ you know."

Diana and Hippolyta had bowed deeply as soon as Aphrodite began speaking. As they straightened up, Diana leaned over and murmured into her mother's ear: "American television program. A type of neverending drama called 'soap opera.'"

"One of the greatest romantic achievements the mortals have ever come up with!" Aphrodite gushed. "I _never_ miss an episode."

"We are grateful that you found time for us at all," Hippolyta said fervently. "Unusual have happened on Themyscira in recent years, and we seek the guidance of the Goddess of Love to help the Amazons avoid needless discord."

"Tell me of your troubles, then."

"My daughter Diana, who stands beside me, has spent the last few years in Patriarch's World, wearing the sacred armor from this temple and associating with some exceptional warriors who serve 'justice' as best they can.'"

Hippolyta had intended to go on from there, but Aphrodite forestalled her with a raised palm. "Ah! Does this mean that your daughter won the contest, and now the other Amazons are jealous because it was the Queen's daughter who took the prize and was allowed to leave?"

"What contest?" Hippolyta exclaimed.

Aphrodite raised her exquisite eyebrows. "Didn't I tell you to hold a great contest and select the worthiest of your sister Amazons to be the champion to help the Allied nations after that insolent immortal, Vandal Savage, began tampering with the 'natural' flow of events?"

"Er . . . no."

"No?"

Rather than keep repeating the monosyllable, Hippolyta made a show of shrugging helplessly.

"How peculiar," the goddess mused. "I know I was _planning_ to . . . after all, why did you think every Amazon woke up one morning speaking English, in addition to the languages you'd already known?"

"I wondered about that at the time," Hippolyta confessed, "but I decided that if you cared to explain it to me, you would do so in your own good time."

"I did it so that whoever won the upcoming Great Contest would be able to communicate with her new allies, of course! I remember now . . . _Secret Hearts_ started as a _radio_ show right around that time, and I was a bit distracted. But soon after that, I checked again to see how things were going in Europe, and I saw someone in the sacred armor from this temple was smashing war-machines, and I decided you must have gotten my message . . ." Aphrodite stared thoughtfully at Diana. "The champion I saw that day had long black hair much like yours. But you weren't alive yet, right?"

"Oh!" Diana said suddenly. "That must have been when five friends and I had traveled back in time to stop Savage from conquering the globe six decades ago. I was only in that era for a few days, Lady Aphrodite, and did not know you had observed me!"

"If you say so, my dear girl." Aphrodite waved a languid hand to dismiss the details. "Very thoughtful of you, Hippolyta, to anticipate my wishes by sending your daughter back in time to attend to that messy chore before I even got around to telling you to find a champion to handle it!"

Hippolyta briefly weighed the merits of accepting this undeserved praise rather than contradict her creator over a trifle . . . but honesty prevailed. "I'm afraid I had nothing to do with that mission. It probably began after I had _banished_ Diana from Themyscira"—her daughter nodded to confirm the sequence of events—"and if her quest into the past met with your approval, that was serendipity."

"Ah, well, no harm done," Aphrodite said magnanimously. "By the way, why was she banished?"

This was the sort of thing which reminded a Queen that even her patron goddess may not bother to stay fully abreast of current affairs in the Queen's realm. _After being a monarch for thousands of years, I probably need the occasional taste of humility,_ Hippolyta told herself. When she'd defiantly said the gods would have to take it up with her if they didn't like her pardon of Diana, it hadn't quite occurred to her that the gods might not even notice!

(Of course, it was quite likely that some of the other gods had noticed at the time, but hadn't bothered to mention it to Aphrodite. As Hippolyta had good reason to know, an immortal entity could afford to take the long view.)

She took a deep breath and began explaining. "A few years ago, when a sorcerer called Felix Faust invaded this island and turned all the Amazons he found into stone, Diana alone was spared because she had already taken the sacred armor and left the island, months before. When she learned what Faust was doing, she brought four male friends to Themyscira to fight him—_and_ his master, Lord Hades, as it turned out. Afterwards, I felt duty-bound to banish her for bringing men onto this sacred soil, and so when they left, they took Diana with them, never to return (as I thought at the time)."

The Goddess of Love and Beauty looked puzzled. "You banished your own daughter? Even though her male comrades-in-arms had only lingered long enough to prevent a disaster? Whatever for?"

Hippolyta gaped. "What for? Great Aphrodite, you were the one who decreed that law against male visitors in the first place!"

"Well, sure, but I never meant it to be _permanent_."

"You didn't?" Hippolyta asked faintly.

"Think back to those days, Hippolyta. You had made a mistake in judgment with one of my kindred," Aphrodite said delicately, and glanced doubtfully at Diana.

Hippolyta realized the goddess was wondering if she needed to be tactful about old love affairs. "My daughter knows all about that."

"All right, you had made a serious mistake by giving your heart to my uncle Hades until you saw his true colors, and later you were tricked by my half-brother Heracles so that all the Amazons were enslaved for a time. I helped you get out of _that_ one, but I was afraid that if this sort of thing kept up, untrustworthy males—mortals or gods, it made little difference—would become the new rulers of Themyscira for keeps, and that would mean control of the Gates of Tartarus fell into the wrong hands. So! With the help of Poseidon and a few of my other relatives, I arranged for your island to be hidden from the view of any mortal men who went sailing past. Then I told you to pronounce a law that no Amazon should leave the island until further notice, nor allow any mortal man to visit on any pretext whatsoever."

Hippolyta nodded silently. That was the way she remembered it . . .

"The whole point was that I figured you and your sisters needed a little extra _maturity_. The bunch of you were what, less than _two_ centuries old at that point? Practically babies. I figured, 'let them stay aloof from masculine temptations for at least a thousand years, that'll give them time to think about how to be wary of men in the future.' Then I was planning to let you try again to socialize with outsiders, carefully! After all, my dear Amazons are as entitled to look for loving companionship from the opposite sex as anyone else . . . in the long run!" Aphrodite sighed deeply. "Men . . . can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em, as I heard someone on _Secret Hearts_ say a few years ago. She had a strong point."

"One thousand years of utter isolation was all you intended? But it has been over _three_ thousand years since you gave me that edict," Hippolyta pointed out.

"Really? My, my, how time does fly. For a while there, I was spending much of my time away from Earth and its calendars . . . don't ask; long story. Well, I'm sure a few centuries extra didn't hurt you any. It's not like you could get all grey and wrinkled while you were waiting."

Out of the corner of her eye, Hippolyta saw Diana twitch a hand in a way that meant: _May I speak?_ (They had worked out such codes many years ago, when the child Diana often sat in on the meetings Hippolyta had with her senior officers and advisors.)

Since this conversation had already drifted far away from Hippolyta's plans for it, she decided nothing would be lost by letting her daughter steer it for a bit while Hippolyta tried to regain her bearings. So she nodded a minuscule nod.

"Lady Aphrodite," Diana said, bowing again for good measure, "my mother recently informed me that some of our sister Amazons are, in fact, growing impatient with the ban on travel to other nations of this world, and the lack of opportunity to"—she paused delicately—"socialize with men upon occasion."

"Natural romantic urges," Aphrodite murmured. "I truly didn't mean to deprive them for _quite_ so long."

"Of course not," Diana said politely. "It seems, however, that they were resigned to your will, as they understood it, until I began having adventures in distant lands, and sometimes returning to speak of them to my mother and any others who wished to hear."

"Returning? Repeatedly? Hold the phone! I thought you said you _banished_ her," Aphrodite said suspiciously, staring at Hippolyta.

"Last year I changed my mind and pardoned her," Hippolyta admitted. "I rather expected to hear some . . . criticisms . . . from Olympus about that."

Aphrodite laughed softly. "Really, darling, do you think we have nothing better to do up there than spy on every little administrative decision you make, and loudly second-guess it?" She paused, looking thoughtful. "On second thought, don't even try to answer that. Whether or not most of the things we do with our time are 'better' may be arguable, but certainly they are more _entertaining_."

Diana grabbed the conversational ball again—which was just as well, since Hippolyta was finding herself at a loss for words. "From what you say, Lady Aphrodite, I gather that you are amenable to the idea of letting some of my sisters acquaint themselves with the residents and cultures of the modern world. That will do much to solve the very problems which my mother wished to consult you about. My chief concern is that so much has changed over the centuries, and even speaking Modern English would not prevent some of my sisters from experiencing—or causing—a great deal of confusion and embarrassment if they tried to 'dive right in' before they understood the new customs and technology and so forth."

"I suppose you could import a few satellite dishes," the goddess suggested. "Let the Amazons watch the soaps for a few years before they go anywhere, and they'd learn lots of fascinating things that _nobody_ was teaching girls back in the Bronze Age!"

Hippolyta heard her daughter gulp before saying, "I had something a _little_ different in mind. There's a modern concept among mortals called a 'halfway house'; I don't know if you have heard of it on daytime television . . ."

Aphrodite shook her perfectly coiffured head, and Diana provided a concise definition of _halfway house_: "A place with a controlled environment which is meant to help people successfully make the mental transition from one status to another before they try to 'fend for themselves' in the outside world."

"Interesting. Tell me what you envision as a 'halfway house' for your sisters, then."

"No more than half a dozen Amazons living and working in the house of a very wealthy man whom I trust implicitly. Some of their duties will involve serving as bodyguards, but the rest will more domestic: Cleaning floors, laundering clothes, maintenance and repairs, learning to cook with modern kitchen equipment, that sort of thing. Room and board and a reasonable wage in American dollars, and free time for exploring that city and the surrounding region after they know the ground rules. After, say, two years of this, an Amazon ought to be acclimatized to the way things are done in the United States of America. Then they could strike out on their own, perhaps seeking new employment elsewhere, subject to my mother's approval."

"Only six Amazons, you say?"

"I am sure there are more of my sisters who wish to explore the world," Diana conceded, "but I advise starting small and seeing how it goes. My mother and I might learn a great deal from such an experiment, and if it went well, we could consider finding _other_ ways to prepare larger numbers for excursions beyond these shores. Perhaps using the first six as teachers."

Aphrodite glanced at a miniature timepiece on one dainty wrist. "Fine, fine, whatever. I have a date for a rock concert in Athens in a few. Hippolyta, you are hereby granted the authority to allow some of your sisters to leave the island on such terms as you see fit. Also: At your discretion, mortals of either gender may visit Themyscira by invitation, provided no more than twelve at a time are invited, and they never linger more than a week at a stretch. That should keep them from seizing control of the island any time soon. Does that solve your problems?"

Oddly enough, those were more or less the concessions Hippolyta had been hoping to gain today—but she'd expected to have to fight _hard_ for them! She nodded quickly.

"There is one other thing," Diana ventured.

"Speak, daughter."

"There is a man I love. If he agrees to marry me, I shall need to relinquish my gift of immortality before we are wed. He would not go through with it, otherwise."

"If?" Aphrodite cocked her head. "You mean he hasn't asked yet? Or _you_ haven't, as the case may be?"

"He has not even admitted that he loves me," Diana confessed. "I have known him for years, and we have saved each other's lives more times than I bothered to count, but he insists we should be 'just good friends.'"

"So romantic," Aphrodite sighed. Her blue eyes went strangely unfocused. "This fellow is called . . . Bruce? My, he _is_ a handsome one! I can see why you want to embrace him tightly before all the 'best years of his life' have slipped away! And just look at that incredible self-control he's been exercising to _avoid_ embracing you . . . well, well, you two will have _a lot_ of missed opportunities to make up for, won't you?"

Hippolyta blinked as she realized her daughter's cheeks were suddenly changing color. Diana managed to say in an almost-normal tone: "But about the immortality?"

"Yes, yes, of course. I could never forgive myself if I stood in the way of such a grand passion. When the time comes, merely return to this temple and pray for me to revoke it, and the thing will be done. Your other divine gifts will be unaffected," Aphrodite added kindly.

Diana dropped to her knees. "Lady Aphrodite, I am eternally grateful for your charity. If ever my humble talents may be of service to you in some difficult and dangerous task, you have only to say the word, and I will give it my utmost!"

"You're welcome, and be sure to pass that lovely sentiment along to your daughters," Aphrodite said absently. "I really must be going now."

"Daughters?" Diana repeated faintly.

"If you won't be ageless any more, then a few decades from now I may need _them_ to handle a few chores in your stead," Aphrodite observed. "All that youthful energy will come in handy, you know . . . not to mention the likely aid of those resourceful boys who will be falling in love with them by then . . . it'll be fun! Ta ta for now . . . my date will already have been waiting twelve minutes for me, and that's enough torture to keep him humble for a while."

The goddess shimmered . . . and vanished.

Diana rose to her feet, and she and her mother silently regarded one another in the silent temple.

"Halfway house?" Hippolyta finally asked, mainly as a way to avoid talking about Diana's proposed mortality. Intuitively, the queen knew that anything she said on that subject right now would be the wrong thing to say.

"I was thinking of a place called Wayne Manor, in Gotham City," Diana explained, seeming relieved by this choice of topic. "I was visiting when you called me. The house is very large, but the owner only has one loyal manservant to do _all_ the necessary chores, and that servant is getting old. For various reasons, the owner is afraid of trusting new employees to keep his secrets if they live and work under his roof and see everything he does. "

"Do I know him?"

"His birth-name is Bruce Wayne, but when he visited this island, he called himself 'Batman.' Some of his secrets—beginning with the simple fact that he _is_ Batman—would be worth fortunes to his enemies. Or even just to 'news reporters' looking for an exciting story which they could be first to share with the world. After you called me a few days ago and talked about restlessness on Themyscira, the thought came that very few of my sisters would be tempted to violate a sacred oath in exchange for mere wealth."

Hippolyta silently conceded that _very few_ was the correct choice of words; some of her subjects had weaker moral fiber than others. But in principle, Diana was right: any Amazon who took a bribe to betray someone's trust would be _despised_ by all her sisters as soon as the truth emerged. Those who might risk such ostracism were scarce, and after millennia of all living in the same community, Hippolyta and her trusted advisors should have good ideas of which Amazons were best not risked at "Wayne Manor."

So Hippolyta focused on a different point. "I remember Batman. You think he should hire Amazons? Does he even _want_ to hire Amazons?"

"I haven't mentioned it to him yet," Diana said with a shrug. "I wanted to see if Aphrodite would give consent, and if you would then agree with the details of my plan. Once I had things all lined up, I could worry about explaining to him that it was the best solution to his staffing problems."

Hippolyta nodded approvingly. In her experience with men (which, granted, was over three thousand years out of date), it was better for a sensible woman to make the _important_ decisions first, and then find a way to bring the man up to speed on the essence of what had _already_ been decided. "I suppose the next question is: Would any of my restless subjects want to work for a mortal _man_ as the price of being allowed to explore the outside world?"

"If only a _few_ of them are willing to pay that price, it will be enough to start with," her daughter pointed out. "Then, when they come home for visits and tell amusing stories about their experiences, that may persuade others that it doesn't sound unbearable. If we call for volunteers for the first group, it should help to mention that the owner of Wayne Manor is one of the very few mortals whom the Queen of the Amazons has publicly hailed as a True Hero while placing the golden wreath on his head. Temporary service with a 'Savior of Themyscira' sounds more honorable than signing a contract with some swaggering stranger who only _thinks_ he's good enough to give orders to Amazons."

There was logic in that, but Hippolyta was already thinking a few steps ahead. "Is this the same man you hope to marry, Diana?" (Aphrodite had said something about a _Bruce_, once she began using her powers as Goddess of Love to probe the subject of to whom Diana's heart was committed.)

"Yes."

"Then there could be a simpler way to make it palatable. Wait a bit, then call for volunteers to render service to the Princess of Themyscira in her new home, and by extension to the man who just happens to be married to her."

"But will I still be their 'princess,' Mother? Once I relinquish immortality, the chance of my _ever_ inheriting your throne will drop like a rock. Which makes my title meaningless."

"As long as you and I both live, you are the Queen's heir. And if, as the goddess suggested, you bear daughters of your own, they will become my heirs as well."

There was an interesting expression on Diana's face; Hippolyta gathered that her daughter simply hadn't thought as far ahead as _my daughters will be princesses too. _

They spoke a while longer of the details of Diana's proposed arrangement, but Hippolyta finally had to bid her daughter farewell because Diana had a commitment to keep in Batman's beloved native city of Gotham.

* * *

As she flew away from the island, Diana thought about what she had bitten her tongue to _avoid_ saying to Hippolyta about the obvious flaws in Aphrodite's leadership style. They might have that conversation someday, but it would be more tactful to give Mother a little time . . . a year or two, say . . . to assimilate what had just been revealed about their patron's shortcomings.

_My American friends would say that Aphrodite has her virtues, but they don't include strategic planning ability, attention to detail, and long-term commitment. You want wisdom or justice? Talk to Pallas Athena. You want sensible, predictable schedules for large-scale enterprises? Talk to Demeter about agriculture. You want chastity, and the focused attention of a great huntress? Talk to Artemis. You want long-term commitment? Talk to Hera. But if you talk to Aphrodite, you should expect _none _of the above!_

* * *

**Author's Notes:** And that's a wrap! (For this story, at least.) This "Seven Conversations" project was meant to help set things up for a much bigger story I'd been planning for a long time, which currently has the working title of "Changes of Fortune." In it, we will see some honest-to-goodness _resolution_ of the Batman/Wonder Woman romance (not to mention tying up some other loose ends from the Justice League cartoons). Some of you may be pleased to hear that "Changes of Fortune" will involve a lot more _violence_ than this series of eight reasonably civilized _conversations_ did.

Now to explain a few references from this chapter. (If you _don't care,_ skip the rest of this!)

In case anyone doesn't remember: Diana and several other Leaguers all traveled back to the World War II era in the three-part storyline "The Savage Time" at the end of the first season of the original _Justice League_ series. As you've now seen, I assume that this meddling with history effectively derailed Aphrodite's plan to arrange for an Amazon to win a contest and be selected for the role of "Wonder Woman, Champion of Themyscira" _during_ that war, as "actually" occurred in the Wonder Woman comic books of the early 1940s (and, for that matter, in the live-action TV show of the 1970s—its first season was set during World War II).

You may recall that, at the end of "Paradise Lost," J'onn J'onnz, Flash, Superman, and Batman were all awarded what looked like golden replicas of laurel wreaths for their services in saving Themyscira and its residents. Hippolyta called them "true heroes." I assume that their receiving such honors means an Amazon warrior could sometimes take orders from one of those "true heroes" without forfeiting her self-respect in the process_._ _  
_

I've written a couple of Justice League one-shots which have established that, in _my_ DCAU timeline, Bruce and Diana will eventually have super-powered twin daughters who are _eager_ to "continue the family tradition" of superheroics. Aphrodite somehow knows all about those girls, well in advance of their conception, and in this chapter she was giving Diana _fair warning_ that she'll be calling in a favor from the next generation, one of these days.


End file.
